Father Forgets

Recently, I've been wrestling with the thought that my expectations might sometimes be too high for Hudson. There are times I've asked myself, "Am I just training him to be a little adult? Do I put adult-size expectations on my son?"And then yesterday I was listening to a podcast and heard this poem that cut straight to my core. It's a piece written by W. Livingston Larned and it's titled Father Forgets.

"Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boy friends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much."

I don't want to measure my son by "the yardstick of my years." I don't want to have "the habit of finding fault." Training is necessary. Discipline is necessary. But I hope they are outweighed by our playing together, celebrating together, and laughing together. I'm sorry son. Sometimes mama forgets too.

FIRST and THEN

As we were winding down for the evening the other day, Sean called Hudson into the playroom to help clean up. Though Hudson walked into the room, he wasn’t really helping with much. I’m pretty sure both he and Sean were overwhelmed by the task at hand. After all – Hudson knows how to put the CAR in CARpet. They were everywhere!

Sean started cleaning up train tracks while he had Hudson focus on putting his Hot Wheels in his toy chest. The problem is that when Hudson starts collecting his cars to clean-up, he remembers how fun they are to play with! Needless to say, he gets off track and it takes longer than it should to clean-up. In all honesty – it would probably take Sean and I two minutes to get the job done, but it’s a value in our family to teach personal responsibility. And when you’re 3, personal responsibility means putting your toys away.

After several attempts at trying to keep Hudson focused, we all started getting frustrated. Before giving up, I decided to try one last tactic. I said, “Hudson, FIRST we need to clean up cars and THEN we can play hide-n-seek.” Immediately his attention perked up and cars started flying into the toy chest. The reason he wasn’t helping us before was because he wasn’t motivated. Until he knew what was coming next, the task at hand seemed purposeless.

This week – there have been times when I have felt like I needed to know the next step…or two…or three. I’m a planner. I tend to deal better with change when I know what is coming. It gives me a chance to prepare myself emotionally. If you ever drive somewhere new with me, then be prepared to call out at least the upcoming three moves on MapQuest directions. When I have to have a difficult conversation with someone, I’m the type of person that plans for multiple outcomes to the conversation. “If they say this, then I’ll say that. But if they say that, then I’ll say this.” And my husband can attest that I am the type of person that asks questions at the movies (quietly mind you); even if neither of us has seen the movie. “Who is that? Why are they doing that? Are they a good guy or a bad guy?”

Most of the questions rolling around in my mind recently have had to do with the future. Are we on track in life? Are we going to be in Vegas forever? Are we going to have more children? Should I start working again? Are we ever going to have a house? If I knew what was on the horizon, then I could start moving in the right direction. But alas, I don’t have the answers to these questions. Therefore, I don’t know the next steps that I’m supposed to take. *Sigh*

However, I am trying to grow in living out the Biblical philosophy of worry. The Message translation of Matthew 6:34 says, “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” Ultimately, when we spend our time worrying – we miss out on the blessings, the grace, and the joy that comes with each day. And with a special kid like Hudson – my day is filled with lots of moments of joy.

So as I’m trying to grow in releasing control and worry, I’ve tried to look at my future the way we challenge Hudson to look at his…one step at a time. I’m learning to better embrace that FIRST we enjoy today, THEN we see what tomorrow holds.

Never Say Never

Sean and I were married for seven years before we decided we wanted to try for kids. And then it was another four years before Hudson finally came along. Though we were anxious to have our own shot at parenting, we definitely used our season of waiting to learn from others that were ahead of us. Sometimes you learn from others mistakes. Sometimes you learn from their victories. And some lessons you can't fully grasp until you experience them yourself. Let's take for instance the stereotypical screaming kid at Wal-Mart.

When I was an aspiring parent and would encounter these "screamers," I would find myself thinking, "I will NEVER let my kid act like that." Or "I would NEVER use bribery." Or "My kid will NEVER be a whiner." It only made me feel all the more anxious to show the world that things can be done a different way! Well - there is a Biblical saying that pride comes before the fall!

Fast forward to present day and I can assure you that I have violated ALL of my "never" statements several times over. And to add a level of complexity - Hudson's autism makes him even MORE susceptible to emotional outbursts and tantrums. Hudson is definitely teaching me to enjoy the taste of Humble Pie. In fact - just the other day he presented me with yet another serving.

We were walking around (you guessed it) Wal-Mart and happened to be perusing the toy aisle. One thing Hudson is pretty good about is window shopping. We can tell him we're not going to buy anything, and he's usually ok with just looking.

All of a sudden while I'm looking at puzzles, I hear my son burst into tears and Sean trying to console. Hudson wanted nothing to do with consoling. I asked Sean what happened and he said he had no idea. Hudson had asked for help putting a tricycle away. But once Sean helped him, he became upset. He went from 0 to 10 in a matter of seconds. He was screaming, kicking, and snotting all over the place - and we had no idea why! And a quirky OCD-like comfort that Hudson has is tissue. The moment we start trying to address his behavior he starts screaming for tissue because he wants to wipe his face. He becomes obsessed with needing tissue and won't listen to reason. Unfortunately we didn't have any on us so we continued to try and console and he continued to scream louder.

It's at this point that we sat him down on a bottom shelf of a display and gave him a time out. While we're waiting for our son to stop hyperventilating - I notice that we're putting on the 3 o'clock show at Wal-Mart. Stick around - you won't want to miss the grand finale! Yes - we are the family everyone is staring at. Everything in me wanted to high tail it to our van. But then I recalled the words of wisdom that my friend Darla left me with after she had kids. "The reason you shop at Wal-Mart is because EVERYONE'S kids scream at Wal-Mart!" So after putting my pride aside - Sean and I talked and felt it was best to help Hudson calm down before giving in to his demand of tissue. We don't want him to learn that he can emotionally manipulate us because he cries or because we might get embarrassed. Slowly he started to calm down and we were able to explain that if he wanted tissue we could get some from mommy's van. But if we were going to go to mommy's van, he needed to stop crying first. Eventually the tears subsided and I was able to walk back to our car and pretend like it was someone else's kid screaming. (Just kidding!)

Though I walked back to the van a little emotionally drained - I also felt victorious. I was able to put my pride aside and invest into my son. I was able to persevere through an awkward parenting moment. I was able to do what was best for him and not my ego. And I'm continuing to learn more and more that there is no cookie-cutter way to address a distressed child. All we can do is choose our battles, keep humility and love in the equation, and sometimes a lollipop in your purse to help shape and mold the little lives we've been trusted with.

And one things for sure when it comes to parenting - never say never!

Fire Station 9

My sister arranged a visit to a Tucson Fire Station in 2012.

My son is obsessed with all things transportation – planes, cars, bikes, busses, trains, bulldozers, rickshaws, motorcycles…you name it. But I would have to say that one of his favorites has got to be fire trucks. Right across the street from our apartment complex is Fire Station 9. So we are constantly hearing the blare of the sirens on their way to serve our community. It is music to Hudson’s ears. No matter what he’s doing or where he’s at in the apartment, as soon as Hudson hears the sirens he makes a mad dash to the nearest window to see them in action. We’re on the second floor so he gets a pretty good street view. On our way to school, we pass right by the fire station and it is always a great start to his day when they happen to have the garage door open and he gets a glimpse of one of the red beauties. With the same enthusiasm each time, Hudson will say, “Mama, I see the fire truck!” And even when the day is done, the last thing on Hudson’s mind is Fire Station 9. I know this because each night we pray with our son before he goes to bed. Over the last several months we’ve been asking Hudson who he would like to pray for. Without hesitation in his sweet little voice he says, “Wanna pray for Fire Station Number Nine.” So we do. We’ve prayed for their safety, we’ve prayed for their marriages, and we’ve prayed for their unity as a team.

Before Hudson’s interest in fire trucks, I paid little to no attention to Fire Station 9. We’ve lived across the street from them for three years, and the only times I’ve paid them attention are when I’m trying to get to the far right hand lane to get out of their way when they’re on a call. It’s so easy to take them for granted or even appreciate them from a distance, but our special little boy has been reminding us to keep them at the forefront of our thoughts. I’d like to think that we are showering these public servants with special blessings each night our little 3 year old calls them to memory during prayer time. I’m so glad God is using Hudson to help grow a deeper appreciation for our firefighters at Fire Station 9.

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I write this particular blog in memory of the 19 brave souls that lost their lives fighting the Yarnell Hill fire. Condolences to the family, friends, and community in mourning. As a way to honor the fallen, maybe we can find a way to show appreciation to our local firefighters. At the very least, we can follow Hudson’s example and send up a prayer on their behalf.